


In My Mind Like Parachutes (My Heart's Still Burning Over You)

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alex Danvers is a terrible patient, Alex Danvers on pain meds, Angsting, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Porn with Feelings, Smut, first time fic, it's not incest if one's an alien, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex gets injured fighting, and Kara takes care of her. Feelings and smut ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Mind Like Parachutes (My Heart's Still Burning Over You)

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: The Feelings(TM) were my main concern. All other details may have been fudged slightly. 
> 
> Title from "Wildwood", by Fleurie. Go listen to it. It's gloriously gay. Also the song that was playing during the very first WayHaught makeout on Wynonna Earp.

Kara drops in through her apartment window, quiet and light as a breath. She starts walking towards her bedroom, looking down at the form in her arms. 

Alex stirs. “Your place?” She murmurs, blinking and frowning against the moonlight. 

“Yeah.” Kara smiles. 

Alex’s eyelashes flutter again, and her frown deepens. She starts to look around. “Did you…?” 

Kara grins mischievously. “J’onn gave you some regen meds. And—I’ve gotten better at carrying people.” 

Alex glares up at her halfheartedly. “I could’ve—“ 

“—Army-crawled back to your apartment? Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” Kara teases. 

Alex huffs, but can’t seem to manage the strength to argue. Kara’s smile wilts just a little around the edges, eyes shading with concern. 

Finally, ”I’ll take the couch—“ Alex shifts weakly in Kara's arms, towards the couch—which is helpfully back through Kara. Kara just rolls her eyes, smile reigniting. 

"Don't be a dingus. You get the bed." 

“I regret that Winn ever taught you that word.” 

Kara feels a grin break out on her face. "'Ya ding-dang-dingus.'" She says, drawling just the slightest bit for the effect and the feel of the words in her mouth. Alex rolls her eyes. She's had to deal with Kara's amusement at human languages since before they were even friends. 

"You're lucky I'm doped up. I'd wrestle you down and _occupy_ the couch." 

"Oh, yeah?" Kara laughs—it feels rusty and weak, but the realest it’s been in days—settling Alex on the bed as gently as she knows how; reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Alex's ear. Alex's hum of assent turns into a disgruntled noise. 

“Ka-ra.” Alex complains, stretching out the two syllables. “I’m not a virgin on her wedding night.” 

Kara snorts. “Ew. And, probably for the best. All you’re gonna be doing for the next couple days is sleeping.” 

"Dammit, Kara—“ There's some ineffectual hand movements in the direction of the living room that Alex will deny later if anyone asks her. “— _Couch_." 

Kara settles down next to her, resting her cheek on one hand. "You're pretty adorable when you're stoned on regen meds." She remarks. 

"I will make you pay for that the next time we're in the training room." 

Kara’s lips quirk momentarily, and then she looks down at the cover, smile fading. “Worth it.” She says quietly. “You gave me one heck of a scare. You can go as hard on me in the depower room as you want.” She picks at the covers. 

Alex's hand finds hers clumsily; strokes her knuckles. Kara looks up to find a mischievous eyebrow half-cocked. 

"Payback." Alex manages. 

Kara makes a face. "Dingus." She captures Alex's hand and threads her fingers through Alex’s. 

Alex seems far too tired to say anything, after that; but she stays awake a little while longer, watching their hands with a small smile, thumb tracing over Kara's skin. 

Eventually, her eyelids start to flutter shut again, her hand going slack in Kara’s. Kara holds her hand for a long time after that, feeling _awake_ in a way that she hasn’t for a long time—but not like her usual restlessness. Completely, utterly quiet, while the city hums and breathes around them. 

Eventually, the restlessness does return, and she slips her hand free; but she’s up all night, cape and all, watching the city, the lights flying past on the streets below, the sky lightening. Watching over Alex. 

//

Alex’s injuries were extensive—some internal, that Kara can’t do anything about. Those kept her confined to the DEO for several days. Mostly, all she does at Kara’s is lounge around on the bed (or the couch) and let whatever synthetic compound the DEO’s drummed up knit her back together. Shedding sutures and scabs and plenty of—whatever the clear-ish liquid is that collects at the edges of her deeper wounds—in the process. 

The ones that Kara can help with, though, she does. 

Or she tries to. 

“I can reach it!” Alex protests. It’s an exit wound out her back; after a week on the meds, it’s clean, the size of a quarter, and scabbed over—it just leaks, occasionally. Kara’s vision is pretty useless with soft tissue, but it still seems pretty deep. If a little shallower every time she sees it. 

“Unless you have eyes in your hands, you’re gonna be changing it blind.” 

“Trust me,” Alex says dryly, “I can tell where it is.” 

Kara rolls her eyes. “Shut up and sit on the bed before I sit on you and change it.” 

Alex complies with a muttered grumble. 

Kara chuckles after a moment, still gathering the bandages. 

“What?” Alex asks, only a little less grumpy. 

Kara sits down behind her and starts peeling the old bandage off. "Nothing, just… It’s kinda familiar, isn’t it? You coming home with a black eye or messed-up knuckles ‘cause some jerk tried to mess with me at school.” 

One corner of Alex’s lips twitches. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“I’d always try to help clean you up, but if Eliza was really mad, or you got into trouble, you wouldn’t let me. You’d lock yourself in the bathroom ‘cause you knew I didn’t know how to pick the lock on the door. I’d have to wait you out. But you always came around. Eventually.” 

That smile twitches a little higher. “That obvious, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought we grew out of that.” The _supposed to_ hovers over the statement. 

“You mean besides the fact that I can still hold you down with one hand and change your bandages with the other?” 

Alex snorts. “You wish.” 

“Uh, unless you’re hiding Kryptonite somewhere in here, pretty sure I have the upper hand.” 

"I have a popcorn maker at my place. Don't make me go get it." 

" _Low_ , Danvers." 

Kara smoothes the edges of the bandage down with her fingers and sits back. Alex turns to face her, face a careful mask. 

“This isn’t some schoolyard fistfight, Alex. We fight for the same team, now. Side-by-side. I don’t need you to protect me with your fists the same way you used to.” She lets a little smile play at the corners of her mouth. “There’s no one else I’d rather be fighting next to.” 

Alex’s face breaks into a small smile; her eyes sparkle delightedly at Kara—and then she looks down. Kara leans in, bumping her forehead—so, so carefully—against Alex’s. 

“Everything you've done has been for me," She murmurs, "Let me take care of you?" 

Kara expects a quip. Instead, Alex looks at her for a long moment, and it's fathomless and outside of time—a moment of its own gravity, Kara feels it pulling her in—and then Alex huffs and looks away. 

"You know I can't say no when you give me that look. Brat." 

Kara smiles brilliantly. "I know. Now lay back and let me change the ones on your stomach.“ 

Alex groans, realizing she’s been played. “You are _evil_.” Still, she lays down on her back and laces her fingers beneath her head. 

“Yes, it’s my evil superpower: Talking Alex Danvers into letting people help her. Terrifying.” Kara giggles, intent on her task. 

Alex’s eyeroll is practically audible. “I’m not _that_ bad.” 

Kara snorts. “J’onn begs to differ.” She smoothes the last bandage down, and pauses for half a second, smile fading. She leans in and presses a kiss to the skin next to the it, so, so gently. 

Time seems to stop again when she hears Alex's heartbeat stutter and speed; the hold in her breath. 

It takes all of Kara's strength to push up, away. She wants to make a joke about how Alex managed to fail a lie detector test, after practically living with one for twelve years. But the air seems to have left her throat. 

Kara clears her throat and pushes all the way up. Alex pulls her shirt back down over the bandage and retreats into herself. 

“I should get some food,” Kara manages finally, “Food truck run?” 

The look Alex gives her when she mentions food—eyes flickering back to Kara’s, all the awkwardness from a moment ago erased—is confirmation enough. Kara turns and walks toward the window, shucking clothes as she goes. 

If she pushes off with a little more force than she means to; if she flies faster and maybe breaks the sound barrier a little bit sooner than she means to, at least the shaky racing of her heart makes sense. 

//

Kara is amazed that Alex says yes later when she offers to help; Kara is amazed that she offers to help. 

Still, it hovers over them, stifling the conversation. Kara wishes she’d never done it, she just—

“You nearly _died_ , Alex.” Kara says, breaking the silence. They haven’t talked about it, not at all since that first night, a change from their usual openness. It’s been food trucks and takeout and _Homeland_ and Supergirl’s latest exploit and everything but _that_. The reason why Alex has been at Kara’s apartment for the past week. 

It’s not an explanation for earlier; Kara doesn’t think she knows the equation to navigate _that_. 

Alex stiffens. “It’s my _job_ , Kara.” 

Oh, _Rao_. She can already see this is going to end badly. 

“I know.” She swallows. “I guess… I just didn’t get how scared you were. For me. Before.” 

This time, Alex reaches back and captures her hand. “Well—don’t be.” Alex says, obviously fumbling for words. “It’s not your job to be scared.” 

Ordinarily, that might make Kara mad—Alex sitting on Kara's bed after nearly dying, trying to tell Kara that she shouldn't have been scared. Like she gets to be scared for Kara, but not the other way around. _A little unfair, don't you think?_ Instead, she snorts softly. “I think we’ve _outgrown_ those job classifications, haven’t we?” 

Alex gives a halfhearted chuckle. "When did you get so good at arguing?" 

"Lucy." Kara smiles crookedly. 

When she finishes changing the bandages and cleaning up, she comes back and sits down next to Alex, who still hasn’t put her shirt back on. She ducks her head down and makes like she’s going to lean into Alex; Alex holds out her arms, and they end up lying on the bed, Kara snuggled into her side. Listening to Alex’s heartbeat, feeling the warmth of her skin. 

She gets why Alex is so cuddly after some missions, now. 

“I know this probably isn’t even the first time something like this has happened,” Kara says, “But can I just be glad you’re here for a minute?” 

Alex strokes her hair. Says quietly, “Sure.” There’s a note of uncertainty in her voice, and something else that Kara can’t quite place. It makes her chest hurt. 

It’s like Alex thinks she doesn’t matter. Or that she only matters if she’s out, on the front lines, fighting—or in the lab, buried in research, fighting in a different way. 

They fall into a kind of silence after that. Kara pulls her hand back and lays it over one of the bandages, the one that’s almost on Alex’s side. Slowly, she traces her fingertips around the edges, dusting idly over Alex’s skin, feeling her muscles slacken, that uncertainty dropping away, that guardedness. Goes into kind of a trance, between Alex’s heartbeat and the warmth radiating against her fingertips. 

Something fierce surges in Kara’s chest, the details whirling in her head—Alex shirtless (vulnerable), Alex wounded (vulnerable), and that one wound, the one core hurt that she wears scattered all over her body. Two dozen little (or not so little) testaments to the hurt that lives in her skin. The one that they can’t see; that Alex doesn’t let anyone touch. 

There’s one of her suits in ashes, out on the wind and in the city waste management system but not far enough away, never far enough away—the blue of it turned purple-red with Alex’s blood. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get the color out of her head. 

Before she can think, she’s leaning in to place a kiss where her fingers were just tracing. The same mistake, all over again. 

Alex’s breath hitches again, the muscles in her stomach (lower) twitching; her heartbeat thuds in Kara’s ears. 

She meant the first one to be a chaste kiss; this next one, though, she doesn’t. 

Kara can feel her heartbeat, high in her head, beating dizzily. Like if she can soothe that hurt, old but never healed, _that_ won’t happen again. If she can just convince Alex— 

But this is her job. _Both_ of their jobs. Their choice. So terribly fragile. She puts her mouth on Alex’s fragile skin, fragile and mortal and knife-edged _precious_ like she could evaporate in the next two heartbeats. 

Alex gasps; her back arches into Kara’s mouth. “Kara.” Alex’s voice is softer, husky-edged; her hand falls to the back of Kara’s head, but instead of pushing her away, her fingers tangle in Kara’s hair, her hand cupping the back of Kara’s head, blunt nails scraping her scalp lightly. “Kara, what are we doing?” 

The warning in her voice stops her, pulls her back, dizzy with the low edge in Alex’s voice, the racing of her heart, the heat of her body rising against Kara’s. Dizzy with the push-pull between urgency and the thing that keeps stopping this. 

They’ve been here before; close, that is. Not _this_ close, though. 

Kisses—yes. Pressed to bruised knuckles and palms and cheekbones, a wordless approach to something that seemed incomprehensibly vast at the time, awkward failed attempts at coyness; unwieldy significance. The words, when they came, were too painful. A single kiss to a split lower lip. 

That was a long time ago. 

Kara is aware—aware of what this means. Has played it out in none too few scenarios—most in her dreams, some subconscious attempt to understand, to _fix_ —but not always. 

She thought maybe that kiss was why Alex got so distant during college. 

This—Alex’s longer limbs, shorter hair, tactical vest, freckles Kara doesn’t remember, the rise-and-fall flex of the muscles in her abdomen—and something else. Something _more_ , laid out before them, like this. 

They crossed that line a _long_ time ago, and it can't exactly be un-crossed. Accidental or not. 

“Kara—James.” So Alex—thinking of others, even when she’s bleeding out, even wounded, even… this. Burning under Kara’s hands. 

“This is _ours_.” The words reach her ears before she realizes they came from _her_ mouth. In the startled moment afterwards, she realizes—there’s not a single cell in her body that thinks otherwise. “Alex, I—“ She does’t know what to say. If she says the wrong thing, Alex will pull back, will leave. And she can’t bear that now. _I only just found you again._ “—I can go.” —Except this is Kara’s apartment. How come there’s never the _right words_? 

“Don’t.” It’s so soft, right on the heels of Kara’s offer. Kara stops breathing. 

Finally, she lets out a shuddering breath. Lays her cheek against Alex’s stomach, grateful just to _be_ here, just to have Alex uncertain and breathing against her. 

They don’t have to do anything more; she’ll dance around this the rest of her life if it means Alex will just _be_ there for it. 

And then Alex makes a sound that’s suspiciously like a suppressed sob. 

Kara’s head jerks up. ”Alex—“ 

Alex’s eyes are closed tight, and such an _ache_ written on her face that it drives the breath out of Kara’s lungs—

And then they flutter open, so dark and so lost, and words are falling from Kara’s lips, lips pressing to lips, cheek, temple, forehead, eyelids; and words drawn onto Alex’s skin with her breath and the brush of her mouth, not sure if they’re Kryptonese or English or—hell—Portuguese or any one of a dozen languages they share parts of. _Anything_ , to make that ache ease, just a little. Alex clings to her and kisses her back, until the only thing Kara hears is the sound of _them_. Until the city, usually pressing in on her, disappears. 

She moves down Alex’s body, stopping at every scar. The ones Kara remembers, either raw-fresh or faded with age, and the ones she doesn't know the stories of; she's not sure which make her ache worse. 

Alex's heartbeat goes wild against her lips, hand tangling in Kara's hair again. 

Kara’s hands are as light as a breath on Alex’s thighs as she moves down. Funny, how a thing so fragile can _echo_ the way Alex’s body does. And yet so solid; skin and blood and heartbeat. She touches Alex the way she’s seen Alex handle butterflies, when they were younger. 

It’s so, so quiet between them; the shaky sounds of their breathing, heartbeats; the shift of the bed under their weight. The rain of Kara’s hair falling against Alex’s skin as she drags down her sweatpants. There’s something bright in her veins. Something electric, under her skin; almost outside herself. She can do this. 

Kara makes herself transparent, paper-thin, until she can taste both their pulses through the soft lines of her lips, Alex’s skin; one to either side, spilling through and into each other. Until the line between them is more echo than touch. There’s a scar that she doesn’t remember on Alex’s left thigh—claw marks, she thinks. It’s fainter than it should be, within two years. Regen drugs. She kisses it, each individual mark, reverently. 

She dares to open her mouth against the skin of Alex’s inner thigh; teeth scraping and tongue tracing. Kissing the pulse there. 

Her name falls in a broken whisper from Alex’s lips somewhere above her head. 

Kara raises her head slightly, want beating out a rhythm in her head, her hands. A low roar, like the ocean. Looks at the flimsy black material, all that's left covering Alex; sees the darker spot on it, faint shape underneath it. Traces her thumbs along the edges. Alex draws in a sharp breath, her hips rolling down against Kara's hands. Her thighs flex and spread. 

"Alex…” She says, still dizzy, but suddenly apprehensive. Looks up at Alex's face, searching for something; not sure what. 

Alex doesn’t say anything, breathing rough, but one of her hands reaches down towards Kara on the bed. Kara threads her fingers through Alex’s; Alex squeezes. Hard. Her thighs spread just slightly more. Kara’s breath catches; she swallows, reaching. 

Somehow, the underwear survives being pulled down Alex's body. Kara throws it behind her. 

Kara slides her arms under Alex's thighs, pushing her legs up and over Kara's shoulders; her hands come to rest at Alex's waist. Pushes close, until she's surrounded by Alex, by the soft roar of Alex’s blood in her veins, her climbing pulse. The scent of her sex. 

Kara just _looks_ at her, for a long moment. Then she leans in, and, with just the tip of her tongue, traces one long stroke up, not even parting her, just tasting— 

Alex shudders, throat catching on a sound; her hands finds Kara's again, and their fingers tangle together. Kara holds, gentle but insistent, thumb rubbing circles against Alex’s wrist. 

… And she has a bit of a predicament on her hands. So to speak. Going down on Alex is going to be… _involved_. Not that she minds, but as much as the thought of using her entire mouth on Alex—covering her, burying her face between her legs and _tasting_ her—makes heat pulse between her legs… 

It's _Alex_ , Alex bare and—for all her training and her guns and her mind—fragile. In her hands, against her mouth. It's a little too much. A little too easy, here, at the most vulnerable part of her body. To hurt her. 

So she takes another stroke up the length of Alex's sex, this one just slightly more confident—but still held back from her. Alex's hips twist slightly—Kara's tongue too light to get any friction, any pressure. 

She brings up two fingers, and she barely presses at all; just parts her with her fingertips and lets Alex take her in, one hungry arch of her hips at a time, caught somewhere between marveling and terrified—

—And then everything else slips away as Alex's body slides over hers and her fingers are surrounded by slick heat, a pulse like Kara's fingers are fit right against her heart. Alex's grip on her other hand tightens to the point where it might've been painful, if Kara was human. Something bright edges in around Kara’s vision; she has to stop for a minute, catch her breath—when did _that_ happen?—make sure she doesn’t lose control. When she feels more confident, she lowers her mouth back down. 

Kara traces a line with the tip of her tongue from her fingers to Alex’s clit—not pressing, not yet. Next stroke parts Alex open just a little further, tasting her, testing how she responds. And then further. Alex—god—Alex goes open for her, open and _wetter_ , her heels digging in, spreading herself wider for Kara, pulling Kara in. 

She lets Alex fuck herself on her fingers, her tongue; Alex grinding against her face, Kara along for the ride, hips moving slightly against the bed. Kara only presses back, presses heat to heat and holds her there. Lets her break. 

And she does; breathing Kara's name like it's the only word she can remember, the roll of her hips turning urgent and then helpless, until she clenches around Kara, a sharp, broken sound slipping from her throat. Kara whimpers against her, hips grinding into the mattress. The bed creaks ominously. 

She swears, it’s like Alex’s heart beating in her mouth. On her tongue. She holds it as such. 

When the shudders subside, she pulls back, mouth still thrumming. She moves back up, touching Alex’s cheek so that her eyes open. 

The ache from before is gone; still, the look Alex gives her is pure need. 

Kara’s not sure what happened to her clothes. All she knows is they’re off now. She remembers tugging at them? She doesn’t spare a glance for them. Just lowers her body, one thigh between Alex’s. 

Alex’s arms wind around Kara’s body, and Kara drops her hips slowly; drags them up, all parallel, no pressure, not on her part. Alex gasps, canting her hips and dragging her body against Kara’s. 

Kara shifts and plants her knee firmly on the bed; gives Alex something to move against. 

Alex clings to her fiercely, face buried against her neck, nails digging into her back, her shoulders, riding the long muscle of Kara’s thigh, breath shuddering with the effort of her movements. And Kara—

Kara whimpers for the feel of Alex pressed hot and slick against her skin. Alex with her arms wound around Kara’s neck. Alex’s thigh pressed directly against _her_. She doesn’t dare let herself move against it—she’s fairly certain she _knows_ what happened to her clothes—but just the touch is one of the sweetest feelings she’s ever felt. Satisfying and leaving her wanting _more_. 

Instead, Kara gives Alex the solidness of her body, Alex moving liquid against her. Alex finds her own rhythm, and Kara meets her, _just so_ , just that much more pressure, that has Alex moaning and damn near writhing. Has her hips speeding up and her legs tightening on Kara, nails dragging sharp lines over Kara’s shoulders that would bleed if she was anyone else. 

Alex's breathing deepens again, breath whispering hot against her neck, just below her ear—wordless, needy sounds. And then she shudders, grinding hard against Kara’s thigh, nails digging in sharply. Kara shudders, too, the scrape of Alex’s nails, the open press of Alex against her skin, racing through her. As the shivers subside, though, she kisses her everywhere—everywhere she can reach, still murmuring, until Alex's breathing eases and her head isn't quite as buried in Kara's neck. 

Alex’s eyes open, dark and fierce, something softened in them that Kara has’t seen in a long, long time. She takes Kara in. 

“You need to come.” It’s not a question. Kara nods, gone wordless. 

Alex’s hands are steady on Kara’s sides, guiding, as Kara moves off her and settles on her side, facing Alex; Kara lifts one knee, spreading herself wider, canted towards Alex. She watches Alex watching her as she slides one hand down between her legs. Alex doesn’t move to touch her, not yet; like she can tell how hesitant Kara is about her strength, how close to losing control—how _scared_ of losing control, as much as she needs to. 

A moan rips out of her throat and her eyes slam shut when she first touches herself. Swollen, slick skin parting under her fingertips with hardly any pressure, and how did she not _notice_ this ache until now? 

Her breathing is ragged, and she’s not sure how it got like that, or when, but Alex is warm, and close—but not quite touching—and Kara shudders for her, shudders like Alex is inside her, need white-hot. She’s not going to last long. 

“Kara,” Alex’s voice is warm, gentle; Kara forces her eyes open and Alex is still looking at her, tender and intent. “Can I touch your arm?” 

Kara nods and closes her eyes. A moment later, Alex’s hand brushes warm along her upper arm; first knuckles, then fingertips, and then the scrape of fingernails, soft but not so soft that she can’t feel it. Kara whimpers, hips bucking against her hand. The world narrows, bit by bit. 

“Alex,” She says, delirious, “Alex—I want—“ She cuts off and swallows. She doesn’t know _what_ she wants. Knows what she wants and doesn’t know if she should ask. She _wants_ not to hurt anyone. 

“What do you want, Kara?” Those fingers drag up and down her arm, anchoring her. 

“I want—“ _Rao_. “—Your hand.” Another whimper sneaks past her lips. “On mine?” The last as fragile as glass. 

Lips press to her forehead, warm. “Of course.” 

The hand on her arm disappears, and then a moment later Alex’s hand is sliding down over hers, curving to follow her movements exactly, fingers pressing against hers but not touching the slick, hot skin that’s so close, _so_ close. 

A low cry tears out of Kara’s throat; almost a sob. The heel of Alex’s hand presses into the back of her own, pushing her palm harder against her clit. Kara’s fingers push deep; her hips drive them deeper. She feels _covered_ , overwhelmed and raw and _held_ at the same time. 

“Alex—“ She gasps, and the inside of her head fills with light, the roaring of her blood, the helpless grind of her hips. She clenches her eyes shut, willing nothing to leak out of them, _please_ nothing catch on fire, but all she can do is _feel_. 

She feels like her blood’s going up in flames. Like she’s coming apart against Alex’s hand. 

She doesn’t open her eyes until she’s sure it’s over, breath ragged. She lets out another soft sound when she realizes Alex’s hand is still laid over hers. 

Alex smiles, so gently, and pulls her hand away. It’s a shadow of her usual smile, but Kara will take it. 

Kara holds out her arms. One of Alex’s eyebrows rises quizzically. 

“Oh, come on. None of the Fort Rozz prisoners will think less of you because you were the little spoon once.” 

“I’m fairly certain that’s _not_ true,” Alex says dryly, but complies. 

Kara hums. “My understanding is you’re legendary. They wouldn’t dare say a thing about you.” 

Alex lets out a puff of laughter. “Good to know.” 

Turns out, Alex fits almost perfectly against Kara’s shoulder. Kara traces her fingers through Alex’s hair, the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. All those places she’d usually skip. 

“Can we agree to freak out in the morning?” Kara asks, voice more tenuous than she meant to sound. Alex’s arms tighten around her. 

“I think I can manage that.” Alex says softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I accidentally wrote a fluffy ending. 
> 
> Someone just cuddle Alex, okay?


End file.
